


Hey Mr. Sourwolf!

by LPM



Series: Mr. Sourwolf and Family [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Family, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Pack Family, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is unaccustomed to children... or, where Stiles has a kid and Derek doesn't know what to do with himself when he falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Mr. Sourwolf!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This started out as one thing and then it got sort of serious and it turned into another thing. It was originally meant to be just as PWP as everything else I’ve been churning out, but it turned out more serious than I thought. Anyway, to address some things, I’m not big expert on the length of time it takes one to get their PhD, but I did some searching and I think I’m at least in the ballpark, if you just factor in his extreme dedication and work in a little literary license on things. What else, um, oh yes, the issue of Lorenzo. I know. The name is a little farfetched, but he’s an OC really, and I’ve seen crazier. Besides, I’d been reading an article about that Snooki character off Jersey Shore and I think she named her kid Lorenzo, I was gonna work that into the story when it was sillier and more light hearted, but it didn’t seem to have a place in the flow of things after some time. Maybe in the sequal, which I am toootally gonna write. Anyways, this has like, mentions of past mpreg so if the ghost of a male’s pregnancy scares or offends you, I’d say you can probably just bunk off this story right now. 
> 
> The Hale Pack
> 
> Mother: Eileen Hale  
> Father: George Hale  
> Kids in order of age:  
> Darien  
> Laura – Jeremy James (beta) = Austin (5), Stephen (3), Colton (2)  
> Derek  
> Penny (Penelope) – Samuel Cherry (beta) = Margot, Quinn, Jasper, Hyacinth (all 7)  
> Mitch & Caleb

 

 Derek Hale (that’s _Dr._ Hale to you) is unaccustomed to children. No, that’s an understatement and not exactly what his situation is. He’s got nieces and nephews sure, but Laura and Penny live in their hometown back in Cali and he doesn’t see them or their kids often. Mitch and Caleb are still young and haven’t found mates to breed yet and the eldest Hale brother, Darien, is...a nonentity as far as he's concerned.

 

When he sees his sisters’ kids, Derek is awkward and unsure and he hates being that so he thrusts presents at them and runs away. He knows it comes off as standoffishness and they’re too young to indulge Uncle Derek his peculiarities, so Laura’s three sons are terrified of him and Penny’s brood of quintuplets teeter between dislike and confused familial affection. Either way, he’s become accustomed to the quiet air of academia at his job, where the closest to children he gets to is an occasional undergrad, lost and flustered, in his office.

 

So he’s understandably flummoxed when he gets back from his lunch break to find an unfamiliar little boy in his office.

 

The kid is looking at him with wide amber eyes and cheeks smeared with something sticky. He knows its sticky because the same purple goo is on the kid’s hand and that hand is paused in the midst of wiping against Derek’s hanging coat.

 

“Who…?” Derek starts but is cut off by the kid’s cry of

 

“hey! You’re not my daddy!”

 

Then the kid is hurling himself at Derek and beating little fists against Derek’s thigh. Derek is consumed with shock and that annoying lack of certainty and command that always seems to rob him of his senses when kids are around. He crouches to try and block the boy’s attacks, mindful of not hurting him.

 

“Wait, wait, ow! I can’t…what are you…who is your father?” Derek tries to say in a calm, low voice. Just so the kid doesn’t think he’s shouting. But apparently his voice has the opposite effect and those huge amber eyes are filling up with tears,

 

“You’re not my daddy! Why are you here!?” the kid says tremulously before bursting into pitiful sobs on Derek’s floor.

 

Inside Derek’s head is an 18-car pileup on a busy interstate, too many things are trying to happen and his mouth takes several shapes, the aborted beginnings of everything that comes immediately to Derek’s mind. His hands spasm and he’s unsure of what to do, should he pat him on the back? He’s seen that done with people before. The kid’s sobs notch a little higher and they border on hysterical so Derek doesn’t have time to waffle. He sets his mouth in a grim line and leans over, picks the kid up, and settles him on the couch Derek sometimes sleeps on when he stays over too late.

 

Derek has sometimes seen Penny do this thing with her kids and he’s nervous about it working with him but the kid’s cries are tugging at his heartstrings and he doesn’t want him to hurt something wailing as loud as he is. Derek takes a deep breath so his scent isn’t at all tinged with the panic he is certainly feeling. This kid is too young to sort out scent really, but he’ll react unconsciously to a calmer Derek, its how Derek’s mom had calmed all her kids back in the day.

 

“Ssssh, ssssh” Derek says, fiercely tamping down the waves of awkwardness and embarrassment he feels, gently shushing some strange kid. One of Derek’s hands lands on the boy’s tiny back and he bears down a little bit, just enough pressure to be reassuring. He can’t describe his relief when the sobs die down to sniffles and then peter out completely.

 

When he’s done with his tears, the boy looks up at Derek, who has to suppress the urge to squirm under the surprising amount of assessment there. Then the moment is gone and the boy is smiling,

 

“You’re a nice man” he says, patting Derek on the forearm. “even if you aren’t my daddy.”

 

Derek smiles back awkwardly but is hit by an almost palpable wall of panic from someone outside his door before he can hear someone calling

 

“Lorenzo! Lorenzo! Oh my god where are you! Lorenzo!”

 

Instantly the boy perks up and dashes to the door, pulling it open with his little hands. Derek stands just as a blur of a man barrels into his office and scoops up the strange little boy who squeals,

 

“Daddy!”

 

Derek studies the man who is holding onto the little boy, Lorenzo he supposes, in a vice grip. He’s all limbs for one, long arms and legs and just that few pounds out of “skinny” that ground him in the decidedly “slender” category. His face is buried in Lorenzo’s curling dark hair so Derek can’t say much to it, but he does have a few moles down the side of his neck that disappear into his shirt.

 

When the reunion is done, the man whips his head up to look at Derek,

 

“Oh my god are you the one who found my son!?” he gasps. Lorenzo laughs,

 

“Daddy Mr. Sourwolf didn’t find _me_ ” he says and Derek arches his eyebrows at the nickname, “I found him!”

Derek hides a chuckle in a cough but Lorenzo’s dad gives a full belly laugh, throwing his head back and baring his neck. The wolf in Derek makes a sudden, violent bid for control and Derek holds himself back, shock reverberating through his system. Usually his more carnal instincts lay dormant, called up on the full moons or in times of extreme duress. Derek isn’t used to extreme reactions, he’s been taught control from the crib and is always tightly leashed. His last girlfriend had called him “emotionally constipated”, so caught up in holding back his wild side that he held back everything else too. Derek doesn’t care, as long as he doesn’t let go and do what he had just tried to do.

 

Lorenzo’s dad is watching him with eyes identical to his son’s, for a minute Derek smells something odd and familiar in the air but its gone in an instant, replaced by the normal smells of his office, and the fresh new scent of the two strangers inside it.

 

“Hello, sorry for all this, my kid doesn’t know which one is my office yet.” Lorenzo’s dad is saying, he extends his hand and Derek grasps it absentmindedly. When their skin touches, a shiver runs through him like a tiny jolt of electricity but its minute and almost imperceptible,

 

“I’m Stiles, by the way, Stiles Stilinski. The new Brit Lit teacher.”

 

Derek nods dumbly at him for an awkward minute and Stiles gives him a strange look before bending down and scooping up Lorenzo.

 

“Ok well…um…thanks again…bye?”

 

Stiles is halfway out the door before Derek’s mind reboots and he grumpily blurts,

 

“Derek!” and that makes him even grumpier because he’s embarrassed now. But Stiles has a look in his eye that has the wilder part of Derek shifting restlessly and his smile is just a little sly when he says

 

“Nice to meet you Derek.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek got his PhD very early in his life. He’s lucky enough to have been born into a family as wealthy as his, because it meant a free ride through university and his MA and his PhD. Not that George Hale, Derek’s strict father, hadn’t made his kids work. They worked all right.

 

Summers were spent hard at toil in the vineyards for Derek, lying on his back on the sun-dappled grass beneath his favorite tree during breaks. The Hale family had money in the way the Vanderbilts or Trumps did, they were just…newer. Some of the snootier of his blue-blooded classmates at Yale had turned their noses up at that, Derek didn’t care, their blood might have been bluer but his money was just as green.

 

When he had decided he wanted to do something he liked before entering into the “family business”, his dad had looked at him hard and walked out of the room. Derek was under no illusions about his life; he was being molded for leadership. Ever since Darien had flown the coop at 18 and formed a band, refusing his spot at Princeton to tour around the country in a ratty van with his friends, Derek’s father had paid extra attention to not messing up a second time around. While his friends rolled girls in and out of their beds like changing sheets, Derek was fiercely defending his valedictorian position. At Uni while his frat brothers went yachting to the Hamptons, Derek was abroad learning languages and meeting important people. His life centered on creating greatness, and he was fine with it. He had no objection to heading up the company when it was time; he just wanted to do something he really liked first.

 

That was how he’d ended up teaching syntax to university freshmen at his alma mater. The deal that was struck, when his father had stormed back into the room and agreed to let him pursue his interests, was that Derek would get his PhD (hey, one or two never hurt anybody) in record timing, teach part time while getting his MBA, and then return to enter the company. Derek had not particularly cared so much about teaching as being allowed to study something he liked at school. He had done business at Yale, of course, so he had jumped at the chance to study what he loved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek often runs into Stiles going into or out of his office, always hurried, always clutching too many things in his long thin-fingered hands. They exchange greetings every time and it becomes a strangely precious ritual for Derek who is inexplicably but inexorably drawn to Stiles. He doesn’t understand what it is really, but the electric prickle just beneath his skin whenever he thinks of Stiles is so new to him that he can’t ignore it.

 

Stiles is something different, his wolf is telling him. Stiles is something Else.

 

 _That_ he does ignore, because Stiles smells like a normal person, though sometimes there are mysterious but familiar whiffs of _something_ on him that Derek can’t quite place. But it’s so infrequent that Derek chalks it up to something Stiles picked up outside, or from whoever it was that gave him Lorenzo. Derek stays away from that thought though, because the idea of them going home to someone else, some stranger, sets his teeth on edge and it brings him closer to his alpha side than he’s comfortable with getting to.

 

Much to Derek’s secret delight, Lorenzo spends many hours in the literature building, and somehow always ends up back in Derek’s office, bothering him until his father comes to take him home. At first Derek was so awkward and stiff, but eventually he adapted to the little boy and they form a sort of quiet bond. Lorenzo is inquisitive and clever and he really isn’t as much of a crier as their first meeting would have Derek believe. He spends time coloring or concentrating hard on some baby reading books, which he sometimes wrangles Derek into helping him with.

 

 Sometimes Derek actually _offers_ to watch Lorenzo while Stiles runs off to do this or that thing in the school, he teaches the boy to read properly and listens sympathetically when Lorenzo talks forlornly about Ms. Apple, his Kindergarten teacher who he wants to marry but whose boyfriend is some hotshot mail deliverer.

 

 

Lorenzo’s typical greeting of “Hey Mr. Sourwolf” turns into a big department joke, which irks Derek to no end because usually people take him very _very_ seriously. But he lets it slide because it’s Lorenzo and he thinks the kid understands him more than some adults do. 

* * *

 

“Anyway I decided Ms. Apple is too old for me, I’m gonna marry someone else now.” Lorenzo says, shrugging his shoulders as if the weight of the world rests on them. They are once again in Derek’s office, waiting for Stiles to get back from having his car serviced.

 

Derek nods seriously and presses a hand on his shoulder,

 

“good choice little man.” He says solemnly. Lorenzo’s “epic” crush has ended tragically with the announcement that Ms. Apple’s mailman fiancé had popped the question.

 

They return to laboring over the handwriting worksheet they had been working on and are just perfecting the uppercase “G” when Stiles bursts into the office, slightly sweaty and pink cheeked.

 

“Am I…am I late?” he breathes. Derek is struck hard by the scent of him, made more potent by exertion and flooding the little office. Lorenzo launches himself at his father, chattering excitedly. Stiles smiles fondly down at his son and then lifts his head to look Derek in the eye, when their gazes lock the electricity is back and it hums between them even stronger than ever before.

 

They’re both frozen until Lorenzo squirms in Stiles’ arms and starts whining for food. Stiles snaps out of it first, gathering Lorenzo’s things in a whirlwind of activity, then they’re both gone and Derek is left sitting alone in his office, gaping at the empty space Stiles had just occupied. He breathes in deep, greedily taking in Stiles’ lingering scent and he knows even before the first solid bolt of desire hits him that he _wants._ He wants more than he thinks he’s really wanted before and its not just lust that’s clouding his brain because he wants Lorenzo too. He isn’t sure what the feeling is, what word goes to it, but it feels suspiciously close to _pack_ and even closer to _family_.

 

 

* * *

 

“Der-bear!” his sister Laura sounds obnoxiously chipper and Derek is too sleepy to even grouse about her using his most hated nickname, not that he got many. Suddenly he’s reminded of Lorenzo calling him Mr. Sourwolf and a rare smile tugs at his lips.

 

“Laura.” He deadpans, despite the sudden warm feelings over someone else’s kid.

 

“Aaaw, were you down for a nap? I swear sometimes its like you’re just a cub, despite all those big bad manly man airs you put on.” In the background of Laura’s voice, Derek can hear his nephew Austin singing loudly. Austin is the most obnoxious of Laura’s sons but somehow he’s the one Derek likes the most which shocks everyone since Stephen, the shyest most quiet one, is most like him when he was younger.

 

“You gonna fire that vocal coach anytime soon?” Derek asks after a particularly loud shriek, Laura huffs out a half laugh half groan, sounding affectionate and irritated in the way only mothers could. _Mothers and Stiles Stilinski_ something inside him mentions and Derek can’t fathom why that thought would arise.

 

“Jeremy loves it, you know he can never deny Austin anything.” Laura says. Jeremy James, a beta from Orange County and Laura’s husband, is a giant sap. Everyone always said Laura would need some big tough alpha to overcome her alpha nature and tame her, but Laura never needed taming, she just needed balance and that’s what Jeremy is. He’s calm and unimpressive at first, but he has a different kind of strength than the flashy alpha power. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever met a guy less easy to budge on things that matter.

 

“…and Penny says that Hyacinth chopped all her hair off and now she cries whenever she sees herself in the mirror.” Laura is saying and Derek rolls his eyes at his youngest niece’s antics. They share the comfortable silence that falls between them when Laura stops talking, content to hear each other breath and feel the connection of pack humming between them even though they’re hundreds of miles away.

 

“Derek…” Laura says suddenly,

 

“isn’t it time you found a mate?”

 

Derek almost groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s an old conversation, one that Laura is often prone to bringing up when she’s looking at her family. Derek’s lack of romantic relationships in the past 4 years is a point of contention between him and his whole family. Even his father gives him expectant looks recently.

 

He understands, he really does. He’s been alone since Kate, the woman who broke his heart and almost ruined his family, but he can never find it in him to trust anyone. Not since the last time he did that ended so disastrously. It was a blessing while he was studying feverishly, trying to finish his program quickly, but now his family is getting antsy.

 

“I…There’s just never anybody _there_ ” Derek says, though an image of Stiles and Lorenzo flits through his mind. Laura makes a disbelieving noise and draws breath to speak but someone starts crying in her house and she rushes out an apology to him, promising to call back later and hangs up.

 

Derek would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Derek next sees Stiles something in him relaxes and he hadn’t even realized it was tensed until the instant their eyes meet. Stiles is stepping out of his office, shirt unbuttoned and tie askance and he looks tired. Derek knows its nearing 3am because he’d just jerked awake at his desk with papers stuck to his cheek and checked the time before groaning and deciding to call it a night.

 

“Late night?” Stiles says and his voice is scratchy in a way that makes Derek’s insides twist because it's a morning voice and that seems intimate to him.

 

“Uh…” Derek says astutely. He hates how tongue tied he gets! Stiles gives him a little smile that turns into a full blown grin. Then he’s leaning in, body all the way in Derek’s personal space, and he’s squinting at Derek’s cheek.

 

“Hm, this doesn’t _look_ like grammar…” he mumbles and Derek is confused. It must show on his face because Stiles chuckles and places a finger against Derek’s cheek,

 

“there’s writing here.” He says.

 

Derek reacts unconsciously and there’s a sound of heavy bags crashing to the ground and a thud and Stiles’ “oof” as his back hits the wall. Derek’s eyes are glowing in the moon, thankfully not the full alpha red, but still enough to be startling. He realizes he’s caught Stiles’ hand where it was against his cheek; his right hand grips Stiles’ other wrist tightly, but not enough to cause pain.

 

Stiles stares steadily at him and Derek smells that familiar scent again, the one he couldn’t quite place the first time he and Stiles had met. It's hard to describe what it is at first, entwined in Stiles’ usual scent as it is, but Derek is just a little out of control now and leans into Stiles’ neck, breathes deep.

 

What he finds there rattles him to his very core.

 

“An omega.” Derek says, and it's a question but a statement, because there is no mistaking that scent once he’s had a full face of it. Stiles’ gaze is still unwavering,

 

“yes. Not a very strong one though.” He answers, and Derek understands because the scent is only very faint.

 

“How?” he begins, and then Stiles does look away,

 

“bloodline got too diluted I guess,” he says and there’s enough bitterness in it for Derek to know some people have given him trouble for it.

 

“Just enough in me to let me heal faster and…and bring about the heat when the moon comes.”

 

He’s a little pink around the cheeks which Derek finds helplessly endearing, and that is so so bizarre because he doesn’t even really know Stiles; at least not well enough to find his shyness _endearing_.

 

“Lorenzo?” Derek asks finally, dropping Stiles’ hands now

 

“Mine.” Stiles says, and then presses hands to his stomach “as in _mine_.”

 

And it’s as simple as that. Derek nods once, then again, and his life suddenly makes a lot more sense.

 

“Okay.” He says. And it’s more than okay really, but he has trouble expressing that. The wolf side of him is howling with glee because suddenly pack and family are consolidated in one person, the last obstacle that he’d unconsciously held as a roadblock between him and acting on what he’d known he feels about Stiles for a long time.

 

“Stiles…” he says, and Stiles’ eyes on him seem open and almost, dare he believe it, hopeful? Even if the hope isn’t there, Derek smells nothing hostile from Stiles, nothing even close to rejection. He’s going to do it, he’s going to say something for once and…

 

his phone rings. He starts to ignore it but then stops dead, the ringtone is his father’s special one. His father _never_ calls, only if there is an emergency.

 

“Derek speaking.” He says briskly when he answers, mouthing an apology to Stiles who gives him a lopsided smile and raises his eyebrows as if to say _go ahead_.

 

“Derek?” it’s not his father but his mother whose voice, though she had only spoken his name, sends panic coursing through him.

 

“Mom? What’s wrong, why are you calling me from dad’s pho—“ Derek doesn’t let the panic into his voice, he might just be overacting, everything might be fine.

 

“Your father, he…” Eileen Hale clears her throat and Derek feels dread unfurl in his belly, “its happened Derek. He’s collapsed. He’s…he’s calling for you.”

 

He feels all of his muscles tighten. He lets it happen, stops himself just shy of crushing his phone and squeezes his eyes painfully shut. Then he breathes out as if letting out all the tension, his muscles relax and when he opens his eyes they’re slightly red.

 

“Ok. I understand. I’ll be there.” He says, and hangs up. Normal people would be comforting and soft with their mothers at a time like this, but Eileen Hale is the wife of the fiercest alpha Derek has ever met and mother to a brood of mostly alpha children. She wouldn’t want comfort just then, she’d find it in him when he was physically in front of her.

 

Derek whips around to look at Stiles, still standing there and looking at him worriedly.

 

“Is everything okay? Do you need anything?” he asks and his scent is a comforting wash of sweetness over the sharp edge of Derek’s fear. He takes a step in Derek’s direction; tentative, aware of the way Derek seems tensed to pounce. When he gets within arm’s length, he stops but Derek doesn’t have time to play back and forth with Stiles now. He’s more wolf than man in that instance, when his arm snaps out and fits around Stiles waist, pulling him forward. When he’s pressing Stiles back until they hit the wall. When his lips find Stiles’ for the first time.

 

He plunders those lips, hard and deep and wanting. He pushes all his intent into it, wanting to let Stiles know wordlessly what he feels, the things he wants to do to Stiles, with Stiles. He doesn’t have enough time to say it all and too soon he knows he has to draw away, take a step back, breath deep, and pick his bag up.

 

He looks at Stiles one more time before he leaves, and he looks so beautiful standing in a shaft of moonlight, watching him with luminous amber eyes, that Derek has to fight the urge to go back to him.

 

“Stiles.” He says, and Stiles attention on him is rapt.

 

“Wait for me, I’ll be back for you. Both of you.”

 

His eyes bore into Stiles own and the other man nods, shakily at first, but then with conviction.

 

“Ok.” Stiles says. And Derek gives him a brief but dazzling smile before he’s out the door, already on the phone with the nearest airport, chartering a private jet that’ll get him home fastest.

 

 

* * *

 

_3 months later_

 

Derek misses Lorenzo sorely. The kid is usually such a bright point in his day and, where Lorenzo is, Stiles is usually not far behind. He texts Stiles whenever he gets a free moment, sends him long emails at the end of each day. Sometimes they can Skype and Derek delights in the grainy image of both Lorenzo and Stiles’ faces.

 

After the funeral, his life has become a basket of chaos. He managed to stumble into the hospital in time, standing over his father’s weak body with all his emotions on his face and no shame. George Hale looked up at his second son and scoffed at him,

 

“what kind of face is that for the next head alpha of the Hale family to have on in front of his pack?” he’d rasped and Derek was struck dumb by the impossibility of it. His father was indestructible, his posture always ramrod straight, his shoulders broad, his eyes demanding submission or respect from all those around him.

 

The sickness had not leeched any of that, Derek saw. But it didn’t change the fact that George Hale lay dying before him, from a disease he’s only learned about when he walked into the room.

 

Derek thought hysterically of his father’s uncharacteristic worry over his finding a mate and was swamped with the sudden urge to weep.

 

“Stop.” George’s sharp eyes, so like Derek’s own, had speared him on the spot.

 

“I won’t have your tears Derek. I can’t go with peace and leave my pack to a cub smelling of tears.”

 

That had dried Derek’s tears up and straightened his spine. It was no time to lose himself to grief, he had enough time for that in private; it was time to take control of his family, his _pack_. George had nodded, approval mixing with pain in his familiar eyes,

 

“I’m proud of you Derek,” he had said, “I never told you how proud you make me, every day. I know I can trust our pack to you and whatever mate you choose to stand beside you.”

 

After that it hadn’t been long.

 

* * *

  

“When are you gonna tell me who this mystery man is?” Laura is pestering him and Derek regrets ever lending her his phone with the ridiculously cute background image of Lorenzo and Stiles. Laura immediately gossips and soon all his siblings know and its something to focus on that isn’t the looming horrible grief that hangs over them all.

 

“Mystery man? Whats this?” His mother walks into the kitchen of Hale House where the entire family stays now and fixes Derek with A Look.

 

Derek looks at her face and flashes back to the day they had put his father in the ground. His mother is tough as nails, as poker faced as his father had been and Derek is sure he’d never seen her shed a tear in his life. Until they had led her from the hearse, Mitch on one arm and Caleb on the other, supporting her. She had looked at the sleek coffin as if she was confused and when she reached out to touch it, her hand was shaking. When she made contact it was like a dam had burst and she gave the most wretched howl Derek had ever heard before whispering,

 

“how could you, how could you, you promised me you’d never…never leave” and as she had spoken, her voice rose until she was screaming and crying and hysteric. It had taken all of her children surrounding her to calm her.

 

Now her face was smooth and flawlessly made up, but behind her calm façade Derek could almost taste the grief that still raged there.

 

“Its…he’s just…I’m thinking of…making him mine…” Derek says grudgingly, and a flame ignites in his mother’s eyes. Instantly there are questions from both women and Derek thinks he’d gladly sit through their Spanish Inquisition to take their minds off sadness.

 

* * *

  

“HEY MR. SOURWOLF!”

 

They’re the first indication Stiles has that Derek is behind him, those shouted joyous words from Lorenzo when he spots Derek leaning against a tree behind their park bench.

 

Lorenzo runs and flies into Derek’s waiting arms and he feels a bit bigger, looks a little bit different, and Derek can’t help but feel sort of sad he’d missed watching him grow for 7 long months.

 

Stiles has meandered over to them and stands shyly in front of him,

 

“Hey,” he says, when Derek rests warm dark eyes on him at last.

 

Stiles has changed a little, only his hair having grown in the time they’ve been apart. But he can see that Derek has changed significantly. Stiles always knew Derek was a wolf, from the second he walked into his office and caught the pure _alpha_ scent of the place. Derek had been somewhat of a shock to him though, because while he was undeniably and alpha, it was always more of an underlying thing. Now Derek’s alpha-ness is bold and apparent, demanding the obeisance of those around him. He stands a little straighter, his shoulders seem a little broader, his aura more commanding. It’s only with Stiles and Lorenzo that he seems like his old self, content to set aside his overpowering dominance and just _be_. Stiles knows enough about alphas to know what this means and its huge and terrifying but when Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes, he knows that he wants it.

 

He wants all of it.

 

* * *

  

Epilogue: aka where things (finally) get sexy

 

Spending Christmas at the Hale House with Derek’s entire family has been a study in restraint at some points and avoiding embarrassment at others. Derek’s sisters are nosy and pushy but also lovely and welcoming, all genuine interest and compliments. The twins, Mitch and Caleb, are miniature versions of Derek and lady-killers in their own rights. They had latched onto Stiles the second he’d walked into the house and had proceeded to be overly familiar with him just for the pleasure of seeing their brother squirm. Eileen Hale was an elegant and terrifying woman whose gaze on Stiles’ face felt more like an x-ray; but after giving him the most thorough stare-down of his life, she had gathered him into her arms and said,

 

“Welcome.”

 

The day passes by in a colorful montage of affectionate ribbing and warm looks. At the center of it all is Derek, spending time with each member of his family, awkwardly exchanging words with his sisters’ kids. Stiles watches him, feeling his heart swell with each moment.

 

Lorenzo and Austin hit it off pretty much as soon as they lay eyes on each other and proceed to spend the afternoon doing atrocious duets for anyone they can con into listening. The only upside of this being that, come bedtime, Lorenzo is all tuckered out and completely willing to be sent up to sleep with the rest of the Hale children.

 

“Those two should be banned from singing together…or ever” Stiles groans tiredly, watching the kids go. Derek chuckles a little and slips his hands around Stiles’ waist, drawing him close. Through the thick layers of the hideous Christmas sweaters Laura and Penny had knit them, Stiles can still feel the radiating heat of Derek’s body, he sighs in content and turns to face Derek.

 

“So, how did I do?” he asks, slipping his arms around Derek’s neck and pressing close.

 

“They love you,” Derek replies, “like I knew they would.”

 

They say their goodnights and go up to their room, where they begin to change for bed. Though they’ve been seeing each other for over a year, 7 months of it spent apart, they have yet to have sex fully. With the initial 4 months being introductory, then the 7 months apart, then the reacquainting of the following months, they haven’t really been able to go at it…until now, Stiles decides.

 

When Derek goes into the bathroom to wash his face, Stiles divests himself of clothes quickly, leaving on only his boxers, and lays down on the bed. Face flushed and nerves singing with readiness, tonight Derek and he will finally, _finally_ go “all the way”.

 

“Stiles, do you know where I put my…” Derek is saying as he walks out of the bathroom. He stops abruptly, words choked off, when he catches sight of Stiles laying back on the bed.

 

“Hello…” Stiles murmurs in a low voice.

 

Derek is on him in an instant, whatever it was he had been searching for completely forgotten. He kisses Stiles deeply and carefully then pulls back to look into his eyes,

 

“are you sure? You’re ready?” he asks, breathing deeply. Stiles doesn’t hesitate, he only nods and brings Derek down for another kiss.

 

Soon both of them are naked and writhing against each other. Derek is magnificent nude, sculpted and taut in all the right places, cock thick and heavy, hard against his stomach. Stiles licks his lips, ready to take that final step.

 

“Do you have…I need to prepare…” Derek grunts and Stiles flushes from his head to his toes when he replies,

 

“I…my heat is…I’m already…I’m wet…there.”

 

Derek growls and grabs Stiles’ thighs, pressing them open until his core lay exposed to Derek’s heated gaze.

 

“ _Jesus Stiles…_ ” Derek groans, and one hand leaves his thigh to press eager fingers at Stiles’ entrance. When the first two fingers slip in, Stiles thrashes against the bed, the sensation is so electrifying. They work at him, slowly, languidly, tortuously, drawing an endless litany of moans from his lips. A third finger slips inside and the room is full of the indecent sound they make, the slick slide of them as they stretch him wide. Stiles dissolves into breathless pleas and moans, moving frantically against Derek’s talented fingers as they work inside him. And then Derek is removing his fingers, rising up on his knees and gripping his cock in one large hand, positioning himself at Stiles’ hole.

 

“Please Derek,” Stiles gasps, and Derek hisses out a breath as he presses inside, slowly. Stiles groans as he feels himself stretching around Derek’s considerable girth; it doesn't hurt him, its just very uncomfortable for a minute. When Derek is all the way in, he waits, content to thrust shallowly until Stiles is ready for him to move. Its on one of those thrusts that Derek brushes against his prostate, and has Stiles’ back arching clean off the bed, his heels digging into Derek’s ass, urging him on.

 

“There! There! Derek,” he groans, bucking his hips. Derek takes his cue and draws out before snapping his hips back in and pounding against that magic spot again.

 

Derek builds him up with slow but powerful strokes, angled to perfection inside him. He rolls them over so they’re on their sides and thrusts into Stiles as his hand on his weeping cock works tirelessly. Stiles is almost sobbing by the time he finally comes, crying Derek’s name.

 

When Derek follows, grinding himself deep into Stiles one last time, he growls Stiles’ name in his ear, so softly it’s almost a whisper.

 

* * *

  

The next morning, Stiles awakes pressed cozily in Derek’s arms and feels instantly the delicious, long unfamiliar ache spreading from between his legs. He smiles, burrowing deeper against the broad expanse of Derek’s chest, content to lay next to the man he’s sure he wants to spend as much of forever with as he can.

 

Later, Lorenzo will drag Austin to their room and they’ll sing loudly until Stiles gets up and makes them his famous apple-cinnamon pancakes. The whole family will crowd around and cook and eat and laugh and Stiles will notice the looks Penny, Laura, and Eileen keep giving him but won’t know what they’re about until Derek finally appears. And Stiles will look into Derek’s eyes and he’ll know the love in them and he’ll think of how lucky he is that Lorenzo walked into the wrong room that day and how he can still feel sore where Derek had been buried so deep the night before. He’ll blush pink as he thinks of this, not knowing the way it makes Derek’s heart skip a beat, how he’ll swallow nervously, or how the hand behind his back will tighten around a blue velvet box holding his mother’s heirloom ring. The ring he’s going to use to propose to Stiles very very soon.

 

But at that moment, Stiles wants to just _be_ next to Derek and drift in and out of sleep, dreaming about forever.

 

End

 

 


End file.
